


If, My Darling

by EleanorYang



Category: New Tricks
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorYang/pseuds/EleanorYang
Summary: Drabbles about the unresolved tensions between Sandra and Gerry throughout the years.Title from Philip Larkin, since his name did come up twice in the series, I just thought it would send a suitable vibe.English is not my first language and this is not beta'd, sorry for any confusion or error cropping up. Please leave a comment if you also enjoy a bit of Sherry.
Relationships: Sandra Pullman/Gerry Standing
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

He was just remembering it at the corner. The first time he'd met her happened to be the day that changed his life. 

Unfortunately, not because of her. Because he'd decided to take up the position in that crooked squad. 

She got interrupted before she took his name. Then Ackroyd has suggested that he never try to pull the young WPC 'cuz she's Pullman's daugh'er. That's long before she established her reputation as fast-tracked smart-arse tough-as-hell no-nonsense Sandra Pullman. 

Before old Johnny Halford made it clear that she's trust-worthy by taking her under his wings. That was when she was just the daughter of that, wife-cheating, prostitute-shagging, pimp-shotting, suiciding sorry sod of a man. A guy who marries a lass like that is bound to be backbitten from now and then.

He never forgot her name. And she never got his.

Then he became the Last Man Standing. 

Only to the villains. To his pals in Mets he'd become 'a cop so bent he probably sleeps in circular beds'. The sort that nobody trusts. The sort that when he randomly jokes about newly-promoted DI Sandra Pullman and her unmistakable beauty, he'd get snarky eyeshots. Telling him never try to pull her. Cuz that's Pullman. Way out of his league, clean as white sheet, stright as a pole and would never want anything to do with the likes of him.

Then there's the Chinese job. The UCOS. The constant bantering and endless flirting. The fatal attraction and never any action because no, just, no. Because it's out of the question. Because can you even imagine, because despite the fondness there's a feeling that there's just something not meant to be. In between his childishness, her control-freakness, it's not meant to be. 

Because he's old and jaded and grumpy and goes on and on about alimonies. Because she's the sort that would not want to cuddle in the morning and let him blow warm kisses down her spine. Because - there are thousands of reasons. Because at first there was too little to begin with and suddenly there's too much at risk.

Just because.

Sometimes he fantasises about things. And one of his favourite is that she'd finished that question. And they all know that she never takes no for an answer.

It was about the Thai restaurant down the road. 

It was she who started the conversation. Wasn't giggling like a baby girl. Wasn't busy being impressed. Wasn't a 'bird in hand', undoubtably a 'bird in charge'. 

She was asking him out.


	2. Chapter 2

She'd watched him for a while now. Leaning against the wall, blowing smoke circles into the air. Too many lines on his face. Too much a bulge of his belly. Too old and too immature.

Yet she stares.

More than one psychopath that they've nicked have said those words to her. How she'd just want a man in control of her. How she just wants to be held. How she's going to go back to the icy cell of a home and lies in bed thinking of low-life thugs, getting off.

And at those moments she sometimes think of him. 

Thinking of him holding some woman, being in control.

She could never quite picture herself to be that woman.

Then she'd think of the dirty punches that he'd have enjoyed throwing back in his days. How he'd have beaten the confession out of anyone who dares to say things like that to the women in his life.

How he won't do it for her. How he'd just be looking at the other bloke pitifully 'cuz he knows that Sandra Pullman doesn't take shit like that and would break their nerve down, piece by piece. And he'd be downright proud of her. Smiling. Beaming. Like a proud brother.

Which is never enough.

But she doesn't want more.


	3. Chapter 3

By the tenth year they'd already been married. No, not with a certificate. No, nobody proposed. No, they do not have sex and there are no flowers and no I-Love-Yous.

But they protect each other from themselves. His excessive smoking, compulsive gambling, and sulking for being stupid over and over again. A lot of shit goes down and she'd always be the one taking the blame from Strickland or someone higher up, coming back from the head offices looking like a bloody disgrace because someone called her that. That does something to her pride - when she should have been the head girl, the star pupil, who never had time for bureaucratic crap but used to muddle through them better before. Knowing that does something to his conscience.

So he'd snuck up from the back, meek as a lamb, head dropping, ready for being told off. Then she'd lash out like some maths teacher at a third form. Calling him a manchild, a bloody tosser, and many other names.

And then she commends him for a job well done, knowing bloody too well that this is all the encouragement he'd need to royally fuck up again next time. But she couldn't help protecting him. Like a mother to her own little rogue.

Sometimes, however, he'd try and be the father that she lost. The one who comforts her when she feels guilty for something that's not her fault. Sticking out an arm anytime when some wanker has stepped a little bit too close. Picking up Gordon Pullman's unfinished business. Nudging her to drink, to gamble, to police and to check out beautiful bosoms of the finer sex. Sometimes when he has a little too much to drink, he calls her a 'dude' like her dad used to. She never bothered to tell him that when they're sober. She enjoyed it as her little secret moment of serendipity.

When they're sober he'd just call her boss, guv or guv'nor. Somehow the way he says those words boost up her ego. That rusty voice emits one little word and she feels like a firebrand tough cop, like her dad used to be, when she has Gerry Standing tagging along, holding her bag, taking the piss and taking orders.

Once she hugged him for moral support, with Emily being in the hospital. He looked so worried, so she just hugged him. Before she realised what she was doing, she was already hugging him. Supposingly, to give him a bit of strength, and it felt more like something in which SHE wants to indulge, much more than he does. 

He sat by Emily's bed for a long long time. And she sat outside that room for a while, comtemplating how awkward it would be to sit by his side - afterall she's just his boss, his friend, not his family. And she'd been afraid that Emily would get the wrong idea. Worse still, Gerry would get the wrong idea. 

Yet she could not bring herself to leave. So she just sat outside the room. She barely managed to disappear when he came out.


End file.
